


Scrumptious

by kathkin



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Pre-Relationship, also feat. Frodo's cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29840994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: “Well,” said Frodo, stirring his tea. “The good news is I met my new neighbour this morning and he’s very handsome.”“Oh, yes? What’s the bad news?”“The bad news is I can never talk to him again."
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 15
Kudos: 124





	Scrumptious

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired (loosely) by [this tumblr post](https://dreamlogic.tumblr.com/post/185694226389/rip-rip-rip-i-can-never-interact-with-my-neighbor).

His new smial was light, airy, still largely devoid of furniture; it had white walls, and high, exposed wooden beams. It didn’t really have a lot of places for a small animal to hide. And _yet_.

“Bluebell?” Frodo said, wandering from room to room. “Where are you?” He clicked his tongue. “Here, girl. Come on. Where have you got to? Hm?”

He put his head into the kitchen, and cursed himself. The window was standing open. Crossing the room he peered out into the garden. She was nowhere in sight.

Stepping out the back door, he picked his way across the lawn. There – a flash of movement. Her tail, vanishing into the bushes beside the hedge.

Letting himself relax, he dropped to his knees and crawled along the hedge, searching for her. There she was, her little face peeking through from inside, fluffy and altogether too innocent. “Now, what are you doing, my scrumptious thing?” he said.

“Watering my roses,” said a voice, a deep voice with a warm, rounded country burr. “And… you?”

Frodo shot to his feet, his face heating. On the other side of the hedge, his head just visible over the branches, was – he presumed – his next door neighbour. His mortifyingly handsome neighbour. “Um,” he said, his mouth working. “I was just, um. Looking for my cat.”

His neighbour bobbed out of sight for a second. There was a heavy thunk as he set down his watering can, followed by a rustling of branches. Bluebell let out an indignant _mrr_ as she was pulled out of her hidey-hole.

“This your cat?” he said, holding her up over the hedge.

“Ye-es,” said Frodo, reaching for her. “That is my cat.”

“Here you go,” said his new neighbour, depositing her into Frodo’s hands.

Frodo cradled Bluebell to his chest. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s. Very kind of you.” The other hobbit was smiling, evidently far more amused by the whole situation than Frodo was. “I’ll. Just be going, then.”

“Alright,” said his neighbour. “I’ll be getting on with my watering.”

“Yes,” said Frodo. “Good morning.”

Turning away, he trailed back up the garden to the smial.

*

“How’s unpacking going, then?”

“It’s going,” said Frodo. He switched the phone to his other ear and wedged the tea packet back into the kitchen cupboard.

“That well, eh?” said Merry. “How’s the new smial?”

“It’s fine.” Frodo shut the cupboard.

“You sound a touch despondent.”

“Well,” said Frodo, stirring his tea. “The good news is I met my new neighbour this morning and he’s very handsome.”

“Oh, yes? What’s the bad news?”

He went to the fridge for the milk. “The bad news is I can never talk to him again."

“Goodness,” said Merry. “What happened?”

“It’s just –” Ambling into the kitchen, Bluebell rubbed herself affectionately against his legs. “Get off,” he said, nudging her out of his way. “This is your fault, you know.”

“ _My_ fault?”

“No – no, I was talking to the cat,” said Frodo. “It’s all her fault.”

“Really?” said Merry, laughing. “What did she do?”

Frodo explained what she’d done. Merry laughed harder.

“Oh, dear,” he said. “I don’t think that was Bluebell’s fault, actually. That sounds like a you problem.”

“I’m painfully aware.” He poured milk into his tea and slopped some on the worktop. “Oh, for –”

“You should ask him out.”

“ _What?_ ” He froze in the act of reaching for a cloth. “Are you serious? Merry, this is a disaster. I can never see him again. I think I might have to move.”

“Don’t be daft,” said Merry. “You just got there.”

“Yes, so I should get out while there’s still time,” said Frodo. “Anyhow, he might be straight.”

“Look,” said Merry, “just ask him to dinner – which is a perfectly normal thing to do with new neighbours – and then, you know. Flirt with him and see how he reacts.

“I’m no good at flirting,” said Frodo, morosely stirring the milk into his tea.

“It sounds like you’re off to a pretty good start.”

“Merry!” said Frodo. “I was – _not_ flirting with him. He – he knows I was talking to the cat. Or, I think he knows I was talking to the cat.” He gazed vaguely at the wall. “Heavens above, I hope he knows I was talking to the cat. Stop laughing!”

“No,” said Merry. “It’s very funny.”

“Can I come and stay with you until he forgets what I look like?”

“Absolutely not,” said Merry. “Ask him out. Be charming.”

“You’re _no_ help,” said Frodo. “I’m disowning you.”

“Fine by me,” said Merry. “Best of luck with the neighbour situation. Keep me posted. Bye, now.”

*

He’d been in the smial four days, and was mostly unpacked, when one morning there was a knock upon the door.

It was his next door neighbour. “Oh, my,” Frodo blurted out. “I mean. Hello. Good morning.”

“Morning,” said his neighbour. “I thought I should come over and introduce meself properly.”

“Oh,” said Frodo faintly. He was _so_ very handsome. It wasn’t fair.

“I’m Sam – I live next door.” He ducked his head at his hobbit hole, as if Frodo might have somehow forgotten. “This is for you,” he said, proffering the tin he was holding.

“Thank you.” Frodo took it. “Um. I’m Frodo – I just moved in.”

“I know,” said Sam. He nodded at the tin. “It’s lemon drizzle. I hope you like it.”

Frodo took a peek at the cake. It looked wonderful. “I – I do, yes,” he said. “It looks – good. Listen, I wanted to apologise properly for the other day.”

“That’s alright,” said Sam mildly.

“Because I really _am_ sorry,” said Frodo. “And, um, just to be completely clear, I _was_ talking to the cat.”

“I know,” Sam said. He rocked back on his heels. “So,” he said contemplatively, “does that mean you don’t think I’m scrumptious, then?”

“No, I –” Sam was laughing. Frodo wanted the doorstep to swallow him up. “I mean, I – that’s, that’s beside the point, because I wouldn’t ever talk to someone I just met like that. It wouldn’t be appropriate. And –” He breathed out, and nodded into the smial. “Would you like to come in for some cake?”

“No, ta,” said Sam. “I have to get to work.”

“Oh,” said Frodo.

“Some other time, maybe.” Sam turned to go.

“That’d be nice,” said Frodo. “We could have coffee. Or, or dinner.”

Sam put his hands into his pockets. “Aye,” he said. “We could do dinner.”

“It’s a bit of a mess in here at the moment but I can let you know when I’m, you know,” said Frodo. “Ready to entertain.”

“Alright,” said Sam, a smile spreading across his face. “I’ll see you then.”

Shutting the door, Frodo leaned back against it and hugged the cake tin to his chest. “Oh my – oh, my goodness,” he said to himself, and began to laugh.


End file.
